


An Alternate Reality

by DiamondPanda48



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe- Magic, Angst, F/M, How Do I Tag, OCs - Freeform, The Revolutionary War, my first au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-03-29 13:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19021312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamondPanda48/pseuds/DiamondPanda48
Summary: The rule of magic falls over the Schuylers and the Revolutionary War. The forces go against them. What can they do?*****UPDATES AT LEAST ONCE A WEEK*****





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> My first AU. Hopefully this turns out well.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction to the world of magic.

     Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton.

     December 15th, 1780.

     She had just married Colonel Alexander Hamilton.

     She also had a secret.

     A family one.

     She and her siblings were not only members of the wealthy and powerful Schuyler family.

     But part of the most powerful family in the magical community.

* * *

 

     Each one of her siblings represented a different passion.

     Angelica was Wit

     Eliza was Love

     Peggy was Generosity*

     John Bradstreet was Guardianship

     Philip Jeremiah was Curiosity

     Rensselaer was Honesty

     Little Cornelia, hardly 4, was Intelligence

     In the magical community, their names were their passion.

     Together, the siblings kept order to the rest of the world, maintaining the passions in others.

     How did they do so?

     By mind infiltration.

     Elizabeth could admit that she was a bit disgusted at what they had to do. They were to break into a person’s mind lacking the certain trait that one of the siblings was sent to fix. They, altogether, could fix 3,000 minds per day. When the next sibling was born, they, if they survived to three, would aid them. Once every sibling reached the age of 21, they would be able to fix 8,000 minds a day.

     They could also create things with their mind. Quite literally.

     Teleportation was a trait given to the daughters of Philip Schuyler.

     Supersonic Flight was given to the sons of Philip Schuyler.

     They were called the Passiens.

     Philip Schuyler was the leader of the American Magical Community (AMC). Along with being a General in the  _Verum Mundi_ , he was an Honor of the International Magical Community: First Class (HIMC: First Class) laureate, a member of the most prominent Classified Magical American Family (CMAF), husband of Catherine van Rensselaer, from another from another prominent CMAF who was also President and Director of Non-Magical Affairs, and the father of the 7 Passiens, some of the most respected people in the totality of the IMC.

* * *

 

     Elizabeth had just married a man.

     A colonel under General Washington’s command.

     Who was also a Caster.

* * *

 

     Casters were typically found from islands, learning the elements of nature quickly, developing their skills.

     Casters worked with their certain element that they became closest to.

     Alexander Hamilton was a Water Caster.

     Casters controlled with their given element with ease to ensure that the natural world would accept the presence of Non-Magical people.

* * *

 

      _5,000 years ago_

 

      _Eziel sprinted into the woods._

_Three mountain lions were chasing him through the rugged terrain._

_He ran until he could no more._

_He collapsed onto hard rocks near a stream of the cleanest water he could’ve dreamed of._

_The fierce mountain lions snarled, but Eziel was unable to back up. His strength had abandoned him from his run._

_The lions spoke. The largest one said in a mystical voice that was clearly not human, “You have wronged us. You. Magical thing. Thinking that you are beyond the grasp of the natural forces, no?”_

_Eziel shook his head frantically to no avail._

_The smallest one, which could hardly be considered small, spoke next. “Lies. You human. You have wronged us,” it paused, looking amused at the boy, who looked at the mountain lion fearfully. “In serving your own people, you have killed many of our kind unnecessarily. Face the cost, young human.”_

_The lions leaned in closer, their teeth wickedly sharp. Eziel’s breathing shallowed._

_The medium mountain lion finished, “We will call on nature to reject the non-magical kind. The people who you care about so deeply.” Eziel closed his eyes. His life was about to end. His sisters, who relied on him, would starve. “We will let you see them waste away when the forces reject your people. This new reality will only end when our brothers and sisters are at last acknowledged.”_

_A blinding flash of light struck Eziel in the heart._

_Then, he was back at his village._

_Which no longer existed._

_It was underneath a mighty wave._

* * *

 

Eliza felt a man's mind lacking an ounce of love. She infiltrated his mind and placed the ability to love in his mind. Then a string of people she needed to fix came.

     She hated this.

     She could see everybody’s thoughts and hopes, dreams and regrets, fears and memories. They didn’t belong to her.

     It wasn’t fair to the people.

     If only the forces couldn’t reject the non-magical kind.

 


	2. The Newest Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new threat pops up. One that is beyond a Caster’s magic. Even Alexander Hamilton’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! This is my first really long story. Forgive me if my style is a bit off, because this feels so different than writing my traditional one-shots or at most, a two-shot.

      _Early 1781_

     Alexander had gone back to camp.

     Eliza feared for him.

     Even though he was a powerful Water Caster, she had no way of knowing whether or not he would lose control of his element and be swallowed up by it. Or if he would simply die on the battlefield.

     But she still had to aid the ones in need of love. It was her duty.

     Her father was also busy with  _Verum Mundi_ duties as General Philip Schuyler.

     Her mother was also having trouble covering up a situation where a small girl had been tangled up by vines that had somehow instantly grown around her and were pulling her into the woods near her town.

     Eliza had heard about all the rumors when she went to the Central Headquarters of the American Magical Community (CHAMC). The newest one that was hot amongst the CMAF was one where, according to the latest events, that the Casters and Apprentice Casters were losing their grasp on their respective elements.

     Her mother had assured her that it was entirely coincidental. But even so, she and Peggy would have late talks about what could be causing this chaos.

     Eliza spent her days fixing as many minds as possible (each fix took less than 5 seconds to do, but she wanted time for herself in her life) and posing as a normal person to the non-magical kind. She sorely missed the days before she became 21 when she was a shining model amongst the AMC. The poses, the carvings that the Plant Casters would make of her onto bark, the lavish sculptures that the Ice Casters would make of the eldest Schuyler Sisters.

     She met Alexander during a ball when she went to her Aunt Gertrude’s (Aunt Gertrude was the Mistress of Law and Order in the AMC) place in Morristown. He had secretly showed off his impeccable Water Casting ability. She had heard of him before; her father had told her that he was a fine soldier and talented Caster. Alexander has charmed his way into her heart and here she was. Happily married to a man who respected her power.

     She was free. For a moment. No more needy people who required love to be able to come to them.

     She was getting out a regular unenchanted piece of paper to write a letter to her beloved Alexander (it would be too conspicuous to have a blue glowing letter flying into his room) when a glowing green letter landed on her desk.

     She picked up the letter and ran a hand over the back of it. Letters blossomed from her touch. She saw her mother’s beautiful handwriting. It was a letter addressed to her by her mother.  _How odd_ , Eliza thought. Her mother was off at the CHAMC, doing her work. Why would she send a letter to her daughter who could do nothing to help?

     She carefully opened the letter. It read:

 

_To my Dear Elizabeth,_

_Gather your siblings immediately. Teleport all of them to the CHAMC, including yourself. Your elder sister will be there with Jonathan. I have no time to explain this._

_Your Mama,_

_Catherine van Rensselaer Schuyler_

      

     Her Mama needed her immediately. Eliza sprinted through the Schuyler Mansion, calling her brothers and sisters to meet her at the front door.

     Peggy came down first, clutching little Cornelia in her arms. She was soon followed by John, Rensselaer, and Philip Jeremiah.

    All of them looked confused as they gathered around the dining table. Eliza waited for her siblings’ attention. She quickly told them, “Mama has sent me a letter. We must teleport the the CHAMC immediately.” She showed the letter to her siblings, who examined it carefully.

     John asked her, extremely confused, “But Mama never sends us letters when she’s at the CHAMC. Why does she need us?” Philip Jeremiah nudged him, leaving John even more confused.

     “John, it doesn’t say it in the letter, which Eliza obviously just got, look, it’s still glowing green,” Peggy said impatiently. John shrunk under her deadly scowl. “You can’t expect her to know everything, right?” John nodded fearfully, satisfying her.

     “But didn’t Mama say that we had to go immediately?” Rensselaer said, urging Eliza to teleport them to the CHAMC.

     Eliza responded, “Everybody, hold onto my arms.” Her siblings complied. “Be ready to teleport,” she told them, making sure everybody was on. “3... 2... 1...”

     The Schuyler siblings vanished from the Schuyler Mansion, only to reappear seconds later in Catherine van Rensselaer Schuyler’s office in the 7th floor of the Department or Non-Magical Affairs within the CHAMC.

     The Schuyler siblings found their mother working at a glowing display, replaying every few seconds of a man being drowned by a lake in a boat on a perfectly fine day. The boat was considerably large for a casual bout on the water. A massive wave, on a  _lake_ crashed onto the boat, sweeping the poor man off and keeping him under. The Schuyler siblings couldn’t bear to watch any more. Their mother took notes in her flawless handwriting about the exact details. A rainbow of glowing letters zoomed in through her unnecessary window, as all of the CHAMC was underground.

     Little Cornelia squealed, “Mama!”

     Catherine van Rensselaer Schuyler turned around and apologized, “I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you, my children.”

     “Please don’t apologize, Mama,” Eliza told her mother. “But what urgent reason did you call us here for?”

     “Yeah, what’d you call us here for?” The rest of the Schuyler siblings asked.

     Their Mama exited the office and looked into the hall, making sure that nobody would or could listen in onto their conversation. Seeming satisfied, she came back into the office and closed the window and drew the curtains closed.

     She said, “Please do not interrupt me.”

     The Schuyler children nodded, eagerly listening to every word that she uttered. She continued, “This department has fallen apart and crumbled far beyond repair. These events, where nature is outright murdering the non-magical kind is out of control. The Casters are in a desperate frenzy. Your father is barely keeping them in check. The Casters are losing control over nature. They have sent thousands of letters to me and your father within the past hour, begging me to bring the Passiens, hoping that one of you would be able to cure them. I sent back so many, explaining that a Passien’s magic does not increase magical ability nor does it work on people blessed with magic. But they wouldn’t listen. The letters kept on coming. You probably just saw them zooming in.”

     The Schuyler children panicked. This was what they’ve had to deal with their whole lives, but there was no possibility that they could live up to this new expectation. They were to fix everybody in the Casting department. Over 15,000 people who didn’t need fixing but demanded it anyways.

     They reluctantly agreed to help.

     Angelica materialized just when the decision was made final.

* * *

 

     Alexander Hamilton was in a panic.

     He could’ve sworn that the fire that started in the middle of camp came out of nowhere!

     Not to mention that a random rock came out of the nearby stream and knocked out Major McHenry.

     And that incident where General Washington was taking a bath and the warm water provided by a few slaves began to boil while he was in the tub with no heat source. He came out having burns everywhere.

     And even now, he’d been attempting to stop these incidents with Burr (a Fire Caster) with no success. He had begged the Department of Advanced Casters to get more to enlist in the Continental Army with no success. The rock situations were out of control. The plants sometimes morphed from a perfectly harmless plant to poison ivy. The wind was redirecting the French’s Ships from coming to them. Even water and fire seemed to be betraying their command.

     He was overwhelmed.

     He was losing the power over the forces of nature.

     If this was what camp was like, what would the Department of Casters in the CHAMC be like?

     He prayed that his sweet Eliza wasn’t suffering from demands that she could fix this as a Passien.

     And how were his parents-in-laws faring?

     This chaos couldn’t continue for much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Kudos and constructive criticism in the comments are greatly appreciated!


	3. Chaos at Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The madness at camp becomes uncontrollable as Alexander Hamilton writes to both Congress and the CHAMC desperately.
> 
> The Schuyler siblings are thrown into a frenzy as they attempt to calm the Casting Department.
> 
> All on top of this, Philip Schuyler makes a discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I’m making the CHAMC seem like a modern city, except instead of electricity, they use magic. This is not a modern AU.

~~~~This was getting ridiculous.

     The camp was practically a bomb site, considering how dangerous it was.

     General Washington was making plans to be end the winter encampment much earlier than expected because of this mess.

     There had been so many incidents, he couldn’t even count.

     There was one laughable one, where Tallmadge had actually gotten his pants set on fire while discussing the next move in the war with Washington.

     And that time where Laurens had fallen face-first into the snow after an unnaturally powerful gust of wind knocked him over.

     Laughing matters aside, Alexander partially wished that everybody knew about nature being against them. It sounded ridiculous, but unfortunately true. He knew the problems that would arise from the non-magical community and the IMC merging. The non-magical kind would almost definitely blame the IMC for their troubles and war would ensue. The vastly outnumbered IMC would be forced to stop keeping whatever power they still had over nature at bay.

     He and Burr were exhausted after months at camp, trying desperately to keep order. They were both writing frequently to the Department of Advanced Casters for them to enlist in Washington’s army to help them control everything with no response, despite Alexander getting his own father-in-law to help convince the Directors.

     And then the issue in the  _Verum Mundi_ : helping Washington plan and writing to Congress even after over three years of begging for aid. Lafayette had returned from France with its aid. He had to admit, he was glad that Horatio Gates had won Saratoga. He despised the man, but at least the victory convinced the French to join them.

     He was missing his Eliza more every passing moment. It seemed as if she made everything brighter and everything more bearable. He couldn’t wait to have her in his arms again.

     He had probably broken at least 25 quills throughout his frustration without Eliza. She would be there to reel him in.

     He hoped that Eliza missed him equally as much as he did.

* * *

 

     23 years later

      _Adieu_ _best_   _of wives and best of Women._ _Embrace all my darling Children for me._

_Ever yours,_

_AH*_

* * *

     The small voice inside him told him that he should simply continue wasting his time writing the the CHAMC and praying that some miracle would compel the Directors of the Department of Advanced Casters to aid him and Burr.

     Without using his common sense, he continued wasting his time writing to the DAC (Department of Advanced Casters) and enraging Washington, who wanted results from Congress and prisoner of war deals, not excuses from him and Burr that it was a private matter.

     Eventually, Washington let him off the hook after some quick explanation that the recent heavy snow delayed the letters from Congress and the British. Which was actually true.

     More nasty incidents continuously happened, and Alexander used up his willpower simply to force a small bit of water from not leaking into the food supply and ruining what little they had for the rest of the brutal winter.

     Burr, poor Burr, passed out at his desk after controlling a cooking fire to ensure that it wouldn’t swallow the entire camp. It had taken Alexander ten minutes of shaking him just to get him to stir, but even then he was barely conscious. He had had to take extra rations back to the room and avoid suspicious eyes from his fellow aide-to-camps just to feed Burr enough so he could whisper and lift his head halfway up.

     Alexander couldn’t have Burr getting sick. They needed each other to keep the camp from being swallowed by a tsunami that somehow could come miles inland or a massive forest fire devouring the entire Province of New York.

     Heck, at this point, the rocks were going to take over the camp.

     Alexander was even afraid to take baths himself, for fear that he would lose control and drown, even though he was a Water Caster.

     But anything that was against his cause seemed possible at that point.

* * *

 

     Insanity.

     The Passiens were forced into enchanted glass chambers made by the Sand and Fire Casters who hadn’t already lost their senses to ensure that they wouldn’t be taken away by a desperate and selfish Caster.

     Through the glass, the 7 Passiens heard people screaming their names.

     “Wit! Come out!”

     “Curiosity, what are you doing?!”

     “Intelligence! Do your duty! Make me smart enough to figure out what’s going on!”

     The Schuyler siblings huddled together, afraid. Over 15,000 Casters were banging on the glass, demanding their service. Aunt Gertrude with the Department of Law and Order attempted to kept the Passiens safe while Philip Schuyler was magnifying his voice and directing the rest of the CHAMC to their positions to protect his children from the raging band of Casters.

     Peggy hushed the crying Cornelia, who didn’t understand why so many people were mad at her. John and Philip Jeremiah were reassuring Rensselaer that they would be fine. Angelica and Eliza were both figuring out how to handle this situation. The elder sisters’ dresses were ragged and torn from their journey through the crowd to get to the glass chamber, where they would be safe. Despite Aunt Gertrude’s best efforts, her Department couldn’t handle the onslaught of frantic Casters. People grabbed onto them hungrily as   Angelica and Eliza shielded their siblings. Peggy was at the front, rushing Cornelia to safety. Rensselaer, then Philip Jeremiah, then John, and finally, Eliza and Angelica made it to safety, narrowly avoiding getting trampled. They only made it because Angelica quickly conjured a brick (Passiens could conjure any object, but used the ability sparingly as it drained their capability) and threw it into the crowd, not caring if it hit somebody. It had distracted the crowd for just enough time for them to get into the glass chamber and for the Sand and Wind Casters to seal it shut.

     Now they were waiting in a glass chamber. They had agreed to go out, but hadn’t expected a riot.

     They had had no choice. If they tried to fix the minds of people who were not lacking, it would have no effect, which would further worsen the situation. But it was either go out or possibly be captured by a band of desperate Casters later and not being able to teleport or fly away fast enough.

     They couldn’t even attempt to fix anybody because their minds were addled. A Passien’s magic could only work if the subject’s mind was at relative peace.

     Eliza dearly missed the days when she was loved as a member of the AMC’s most prominent CMAF. Now she was the center of hatred and desperate attempts by the DC (Department of Casters) and the DAC (Department of Advanced Casters).

     She had already held a grudge against both departments after her Alexander informing her just after he arrived in Albany to marry her that both departments primarily focused towards Casters were denying aid to the Continental Army.

      _They continued to argue that anything that went on in the_ Verum Mundi _was not the CMAF’s responsibility,_ Alexander had ranted, slamming his fist onto the dining table, leaving a small dent in the fine wood. (He did apologize to his father-in-law later, who wasn’t the slightest bit mad.)  _But the majority of Casters in the AMC were patriots! And the Caster’s Oath clearly states that each Caster must control human conflicts from being influenced by nature!_

     She tapped on the glass for a member of the Department of Law and Order to come to her aid. She had been in the enclosed chamber for 5 hours and the crowds were still there.

     To make matters worse, the Casters were forbidding any teleportation magic by mixing together their elements and creating a barrier for strong magic. They didn’t want the Passiens escaping.

     A man wearing a glowing patch that signified that he was part of the Department of Law and Order saw this and sent her a slip of IMC letter paper through the glass that only she could read. It read, “What do you need, Passien Love? Are you and your siblings at all uncomfortable?”

     She found another slip of IMC letter paper in her hand. She wrote with her mind, forcing ink onto the magical paper. She hadn’t practiced this in a long time.

      She wrote, 

_Dear Sir,_

_My siblings and I are going hungry. When will we be able to leave? What has happened to my Mother? Can you contact my husband, Colonel Alexander Hamilton, 1st Degree Water Caster in the Department of Advanced Casters?_

    She sent the paper through the glass and the man read it. He walked away without giving Eliza another look. He went into a stone residence building and didn’t emerge, leaving Eliza furiously tapping on the glass until Angelica took her into her arms and said, “Please, Love. You are worrying your younger brothers with your tapping. Cornelia was beginning to fuss again.”

     Eliza calmed down. She needed to act appropriately in her ruined dress and be a model for her younger siblings.

     Her heart longed for Alexander, for him to calm her down with his sweet words. For him to embrace her.

     She was worrying about him constantly in the camp. He had assured her that he was in perfect health and that Laurens, Lafayette, and Burr sent them their well wishes and all of them were doing perfectly fine. But she thought otherwise.

     Alexander, with all his virtues, could not find time to take care of himself.

     She collapsed onto the floor, worry swirling through her mind like a paintbrush swirling through paint colors.

* * *

 

     Philip Schuyler was in emotional agony.

     His Catherine was in hiding and left him a letter, saying that she was fleeing the CHAMC before the Casters forbade teleportation and if she didn’t come back, assume that she was dead and move on with her passing.

     His beloved children, his Passiens, were in glass chambers in the center of the CHAMC courtyard, powerless against his rioting Casters.

     He stood on his balcony that overlooked the underground city and shouted orders to his people. But they were still outnumbered.

     He had been rushed inside the bunker inside his building which was stocked with enough food and water to last a lifetime when he the Casters began attempting to kill him with their elements.

     He had no idea of what was going on or what to do.

     He had live footage from the magical scanners that were placed all around the CHAMC that was broadcasted to his glowing display, but nothing that he saw gave him even a flicker of hope.

     He could’ve seen this coming. He could’ve gotten the Casters under control when the problem was still small. All he had to blame was himself.

     He spent hours looking at the display, praying that the crowd would subside. He had gotten no response for the signal of help from the IMC. He assumed that the rest of the Magical Community must be under chaos as well.

     Eventually, the great Philip Schuyler fell asleep.

* * *

 

      _A trio of unsettlingly large mountain lions cornered Philip Schuyler against the Pennsylvania Statehouse**._

_The largest one sneered in an inhuman voice, “It has been too long since our brothers and sisters went without acknowledgment.”_

_The smallest one, still unnaturally large for a mountain lion, was inching towards him; what were mountain lions even doing in Philadelphia? It snarled in a similar voice as its comapanion, “ Five thousand years. Messages never seem to get through to the Magical kind, Philip Schuyler.” The lion emphasized his last name, as if it were poison simply to speak of._

_Philip attempted to cast the lions away with the flick of his hand, but the medium one stopped him, digging its claws slowly into his arm. Philip winced._

_“This has to be a dream!” He exclaimed. The lions laughed dryly._

_“Or is it something more, Philip Schuyler?” They whispered hauntingly before dissolving into dust._

_The scene faded._

* * *

     Philip awoke.

     What he just had.. with the mountain lions and the Pennsylvania Statehouse. It was simply a dream. The lions were not real. They had never existed.

     But the tale of Eziel and the Lions came back to him.

     Nobody believed that it had been true. It was accepted as a fable amongst the Magical Community. An explanation as to why nature could never accept the non-magical kind.

     His dream was just based off of it. Perhaps he had had it in the back of his full mind that day.

     But what had the lions said? “ _Or is it something more, Philip Schuyler?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Hamilton July 4, 1804  
> **The old name for Independence Hall
> 
> I wrote this with zero plan, so it’s kind of all over the place.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. Kudos and constructive criticism in the comments are greatly appreciated!


	4. In the Crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS WHILE WRITING AHHHHH*
> 
> The Casters wait day and night for the Schuyler siblings to fix them.
> 
> Alexander and Burr are quite literally dying from their duties.
> 
> Catherine van Rensselaer Schuyler seeks asylum and may or may not have found it.

     It had gotten worse.

     So much worse.

     The Casters pounded on the glass with all their might. Only fate held the cracking glass together with delicate strands.

     They had no choice, really. It was either show themselves or have the rest of the AMC massacred by the rogue Casters and be kidnapped.

     Perhaps being a Passien was a terrible fate after all.

     But at least they knew that the rest of the AMC wouldn’t be slaughtered because of an accusation that they were aiding the Passiens to escape them.

     They were all starving, and Eliza had no idea what had happened to her mother or father. They had only had water and no food. The man from Aunt Gertrude’s department hadn’t returned.

     Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy kept their younger siblings spirited and happy. It was getting increasingly harder to get them to laugh each long, drifting hour.

     Eliza herself was barely keeping herself from despair. The only thought that kept her going was seeing Alexander again. She would eventually get out of the crowd of Casters. He would kiss her and embrace her and never let her leave his sight again. The thought of that tender and sweet paradise made her sigh.

     She pushed the thought aside. No more time for romantic fantasies, even though it was the sole thing keeping her going through this mess.

* * *

 

     Alexander couldn’t handle it.

     It was far too much.

     He hadn’t received any word from his Eliza or the AMC for a week. Not even her father had written to him. He was beginning to worry about her. It took the remainder of his waning strength to not rush off to the CHAMC and find out what was going on.

     Eliza.

     Eliza.

     Eliza.

     The name that mattered most to him. He thought that he would cease to exist if she was gone. The very thought of it brought a wave of dread over him.

     Both him and Burr had fallen ill. They no longer had any control over their respective elements. They both shared large amounts of graying hair and stress lines on their faces, despite their young age. Alexander had nearly drowned in the bath when he was given the luxury. The wave of panic had washed over him. He had never been afraid of the water. He had dunked his head in the water when he realized that he could not breathe. Water filled his lungs and he panicked. _So_ _this_ _is_ _what_ _it_ _felt_ _like_ _to drown_ , he had thought. He lifted his head, only to be pulled down by the water. He, the great Alexander Hamilton himself, glorified Water Caster in the IMC, would drown in the bath. Then, a sudden surge of thoughts. All that he had done. Everyone who he had known. And Eliza. That’s what pulled him out of the water.

     There was really no point anymore for him to not accept the leave offered by Washington. He was ill and useless. Perhaps this would be a good time to find out the chaos that was going on.

     He craved Eliza’s good heart.

     Standing up, wobbly with fever and trembling slightly, he made his way to Washington’s room and knocked on the dark wooden door.

     He received a grumpy and displeased response, “Major Tallmadge, leave me alone. I am working on plans and supply chains.”

     The ill Alexander responded, “Your Excellency, it’s Colonel Hamilton,” while attempting to not laugh at Washington’s assumption that he was Tallmadge.

     “Hamilton, you should be resting. We wouldn’t want an incident like last winter,” Washington replied in the way one would assume that Hamilton was his son, but still not coming to the door. “You gave us quite a scare. Elizabeth was fretting about you constantly.” Alexander winced at the memory. He had overworked himself again and overused his powers after a night of hearty drinking with his comrades. He lay bed-ridden for days with the fear of dying on his Eliza. The worst ailment he had had ever since he had contracted yellow fever on St. Croix.

     Alexander said, “Your Excellency, I have taken up your offer of leave,” and opened the wooden door.

     He saw Washington sitting at his desk, copying down a few papers. Washington looked up at the young auburn-haired man, obviously ill, standing in front of him.

     “We’ll arrange this in the morning, Colonel,” Washington began, much to Alexander’s disappointment. He was hoping that everything could be arranged that day for him to leave in two days from then. “For I am busy right now.”

     Alexander, not wanting to argue with Washington, turned around and put his hand onto the shiny doorknob.

    Before he could turn the piece of metal, Washington called, “Son, what’s been bothering you? You’ve seemed distracted,” he observed.

     Hamilton looked at the man. His eyes had softened by just a fraction. Gathering up his courage, he said, “Nobody has heard from General Schuyler for a week. I have also not heard from my wife for a week. Nor the rest of the Schuyler family, for that matter.”

     Washington exhaled. He said, “Son, listen to me. You may be rash. Quick to anger. Quick to act. But the very thing that may save you is your heart. You know what to do when it speaks to you. I believe you have a reason to be worried. We will arrange a search party for them. I have contacted General Schuyler many times this past week, and he has not once responded. I will grant you leave, but on one condition, Alexander.” His eyes locked with Alexander’s. Alexander prayed that Washington wouldn’t assign him some impossible task that often came with his nightly tempers.

     “What is it, sir?” Alexander asked his employer with an anxious undertone.

     “Be honest to me.” Alexander frowned, not knowing what the older man was saying. He opened his mouth to argue, but was stopped by Washington’s large, calloused hand from years of owning a plantation. “Something else is bothering you, Alexander. It only began quite recently. Whether you decide to confide in me about it or not is another issue. But I beg you to be honest.”

     Alexander nodded. He began to leave to pack his belongings and set out towards Albany. The renewed strength of discovering what had happened to the Schuylers replaced the strength stolen by his ailment.

      _Eliza._

* * *

 

     Catherine had set out a week ago.

     She had left her beloved Philip a note. It was somber, but necessary to write.

     Now she had teleported to the French Louisiana Territory, hoping to find a native society of magically gifted people.

     She hoped to be safe from Casters looking for her there. Air and Wind Casters would attempt to find her, but she doubted that anybody would be able to discover her on the massive plain. As a van Rensselaer by birth and a Schuyler by marriage, she certainly was, without a doubt, the second most powerful person in the AMC, only overshadowed by her husband. She could fend off over a hundred Casters all at once to purchase enough time to escape.

     Not to mention that she was about a month away from giving birth to yet another Passien (if they survived to 4).

     She was weakened because of her condition and on the run from thousands of Casters who were probably looking for her, while her children were in glass chambers, displayed for the rogue Casters to see with no hope of release. Sweet Cornelia, who would always clutch her ankles. Her sons, who would be terrified. And her three eldest daughters, attempting to maintain order. She wondered how dear Gertrude was doing. Another thought to her grandchildren, Philip and little Kitty. How was Jonathan taking care of them? She never had liked the man, but she knew that at least her eldest daughter was happy with him. The Churches were a powerful and Conjuring family who understood and respected her Angelica’s position and power.

     Conjurers were exceptionally rare in the IMC. 1 in every thousand members of the IMC that were blessed with the gift of Conjuring. The main exception was the AMC. Her children, the Passiens were all considered Conjurers (she didn’t need any reminders of the time Philip Jeremiah had wondered what a daisy flower looked like and filled the entire Schuyler Mansion with tiny daisies). Catherine herself was a Conjurer (even though nobody else in her family was). Of course, the Churches were British, so they would return to Britain once the war was over, but for now, they were considered temporary members of the AMC and of course were also a CMAF. The Churches were also a massive family, which also helped. There were about 25,000 members of the AMC and with the Churches, her children, herself, and the 27 other Conjurers, the AMC had the most Conjurers proportional to its size compared to any other Magical Community recognized by the IMC.

     The last thought she gave to before continuing on her trek was to Hamilton. Her Eliza loved him. He loved her back. A match made in absolute certainty, even though Hamilton had no known magical lineage. He had admitted to Philip and herself that his mother most definitely lacked any sort of magical ability and he did not know about his father.

     After heaving a heavy sigh of loneliness, she continued.

    She was exhausted and stressed, not a good combination of circumstances for her unborn child.

    She had nothing except for a leather flask of water, which she Conjured more water to refill it from time to time. She Conjured up some food for herself from time to time as well. Magic too extreme would harm her child. She had been worried to teleport so far and panicked for a moment when she felt no movement but then a firm kick convinced her that it was fine.

     If she wasn’t like this, then she could simply conjure up a small makeshift home out of raw wood and get by.

     How selfish she was, she reflected. She left her post at the CHAMC, one of the most crucial jobs, simply to save herself.

     Catherine told herself that her first priority should be to find magical beings that would provide her with aid.

     Days passed. Not a single thing.

     One week. Nothing.

     Catherine was giving up hope. She needed to stop straining herself. Her child would be injured if she continued like this.

     The wintery cold chilled her to the bone but her resistance to the elements aided her.

     One particularly brutal evening, where the fierce winds blew the waterfall of snow into Catherine’s eyes, she saw a deer carcass on top of the snowdrift.

     Something was protruding out of its back.

     Catherine came closer to it.

     A colorful arrow, a light in the white landscape, was sticking out of the animal’s back.

     The deer was killed just recently by a human.

     She was close.

     She called out as loud as she could with the wind ripping her words away. “I AM CATHERINE VAN RENSSELAER SCHUYLER. THE WIFE OF AMC LEADER PHILIP SCHUYLER AND THE MOTHER OF THE SEVEN PASSIENS!” She no longer cared whether or not she revealed this information to non-magical people. She needed aid.

      An icy cold touch grabbed her arm. A native American man dressed in thick animal skins with a bow and quiver slung over his shoulder was looking over her for injuries.

     She screamed. She hadn’t expected somebody to seemingly materialize beside her.

     The man patted her shoulder calmly, reassuring her that he was not going to harm her. He draped Catherine with an animal skin.

     Catherine’s mind processed everything. A native American man had found her and was trying to help her.

     The man leaned into her ear and said in English, “I have come to aid you. I am what you call an Ice Caster.”

     Catherine was taken aback. How did this man know who she was and how to speak English?

     She said, “Please help me. I’ve been out here for a week with no aid and my Casters are after me.”

     “Do not fear. I will give you help,” the man said, leading her to a small frozen pond. Catherine feared. What was his idea of helping her? Throwing her onto the pond and breaking the ice with his magic?

     The man stepped onto the icy pond and chanted something in a language that Catherine had never heard. The ice shattered like glass, and the man fell into the freezing pond.

     She was worried for the man, so she looked into the water, which was already freezing over again. She looked into the water, hoping that the man would re-emerge seconds later when she saw bubbles forming from a sculpture, deep in the pond. An aura of light surrounded a tiny sculpture of a thing. It seemed like something from the man’s native culture.

     She acted without thinking.

     She jumped in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. I posted this accidentally when I started it. Please forgive me.  
> Okay, so you may be wondering why I chose for Hamilton to be a Water Caster. The reason is because he survived the deadly hurricane that devastated St. Croix. He says in Hurricane, “I didn’t drown,” which is one reason. The second reason is because during an attack, Hamilton fell out of a canoe while under fire and he was presumed dead. He walked in, soaking on his other aides-to-camp toasting his accomplishments as Washington’s most trusted secretary at such a young age. He told them that he swam back to camp.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Sorry that I left a cliffhanger, the chance was too good to pass up! Kudos and constructive criticism in the comments are greatly appreciated!


	5. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange setting puzzles Catherine van Rensselaer Schuyler.
> 
> Hamilton goes on a desperate search for Eliza.
> 
> A new incident leaves the non-magical community confused and afraid.
> 
> And one non-magical man finds out the truth.

     Catherine instantly regretted her decision.

     How was she so stupid?

     She jumped into freezing water, which would either make her freeze to death or drown from the ice covering the surface of the water.

     And not to mention she was eight months pregnant and shouldn’t be doing anything strenuous.

     Just to touch a pretty statue.

     But after the boneshaking chill of jumping into such cold water, something happened.

     A glow lit up the pond.

     Catherine was in wonder. The pond seemed to glow because of its essence. There was no source in the pond. The source _was_ the pond.

     Catherine swam around the lake, realizing that she could see clearly. The pond also seemed cleaner than it had been. There was no more debris floating in it, no terrifying things floating in the water, no moss on the rocks.

     It had cleaned itself for her.

     That was the only explanation that Catherine could come upon.

     Catherine stopped mid-swim suddenly when a realization hit her.

     She hadn’t surfaced to breathe once.

     She could breathe there.

     “What kind of ice powers does this man have to be able to do this to water?” Catherine said out loud in a gurgling mess underwater. The bubbled tickled her face as she was reminded of her childhood, swimming in the nearby lake with her siblings.

     She swam for awhile before discovering the place where she saw the statue. She was determined to figure out where the man had gone. He obviously didn't teleport, because only direct Schuylers or Schuylers-by-marriage could accomplish such magic. That was a fact. Nobody else in magic history could teleport other than the Dutch-originating Schuyler family.

     Did he lie about his element? Did he somehow Conjure a mysterious statue to distract her?

     As Catherine was panicking, so was her baby.

     It gave her two kicks and Catherine cringed. She needed to stay calm.

     She continued through the depths of the water. It was a surprisingly deep pond.

     Catherine swam until she noticed a massive crevasse forming beneath her. She looked down, holding her breath. She swore that it hadn’t been there before. Her eyes searched for any bubbles or any glow in the dark depth of the increasing-in-size crevasse.

     She saw it.

     The little statue was jutting out of a large rock. Its glowing aura had illuminated the rocks beside it. Like a candle in the endless depths.

     Catherine carefully swam down, also realizing that she was swimming more than she ought and must be more careful.

     The water hadn’t seeped through her clothing either. Odd.

     She got to the place where the little statue had resided. She carefully touched it, unsure of what it was about to do.

     A blinding flash of light danced in front of Catherine’s eyes.

     Catherine’s vision cleared.

     She examined herself, checking for injury. She felt perfectly well. Spots of light flickered in her vision as she made sure her child was well.

     Little did she notice the whirlpool forming beneath her feet.

* * *

     Alexander was riding furiously.

     He didn’t care how much snow was falling, how much wind there was, how cold he had been.

     He wanted Eliza, safe in his arms and never torn away from him as long as he was alive. Her soulful brown eyes would gaze adoringly at him and his near violet blue ones would gaze back at his beloved with the same amount of affection.

     He missed sweet Peggy. She would always make him laugh with her sarcastic comments and polite humor. He toasted to her every night.

     Angelica Carter. Beautiful. Witty. Intelligent. The one who would’ve stolen the center of his soul if he hadn’t met Eliza first. She had been married and had children, but he couldn’t dwell on them not having a flirtatious relationship. But he cared deeply about Jonathan and his niece and nephew, so they did have their flirtatious moments in secret.

    The rest of the Passiens came to his mind. He smiled at the thought of holding little Cornelia in his arms and Eliza swooning at how delightful the moment was. He remembered Rensselaer telling him every single thing that he ever did wrong because he had seen Alexander as a god. He remembered Philip Jeremiah asking him every question one could possibly ask.

     Then his parents-in-law who treated him like he was another son. Such a powerful family accepted him, magically and realistically. A penniless orphan who was illegitimate. He thought about them constantly and thanked God every moment of his day that they had graciously blessed him with their hospitality.

     Heaven forbid that any of them had been harmed. He would swear revenge against every single malicious Caster in the AMC. He would challenge each and every one of them to a duel to the death. If he won all of them, then his family would have their vengeance. If he lost before he defeated them all, he would at least be with his Eliza...

     He rode off with energy in his veins.

                               ⚜️⚜️⚜️

      _9_ _hours_ _later_

     Alexander hadn’t stopped once.

     He had shown no regards toward his scarves becoming looser and looser, or how exhausted his horse had been. He hadn’t felt the bitter wind that threatened to tear him off of his horse, or the cold that turned his ears cold, or even the snow that heavily obscured his vision. The only thing that mattered to him was the wellbeing of the Schuylers. His family.

     He had finally made it back to the Pastures. The peaceful snow-covered family estate looked as if the young Schuyler boys would suddenly burst out the door.

     The Pastures.

     He and Eliza had wed in its parlor. He would never enter it again without remembering that day. The memory was still fresh.

* * *

 

     1 month ago

      _Eliza looked at Alexander with all the love in a single gaze as it was humanly possible._

_Of course, Eliza was no regular human. She was an Angel. The sorceress who had bewitched his heart and soul to love her. The Passien of Love who would always love him. It was terrifying how much he loved her. He could stare into her soft brown eyes forever in her love._

_Eliza had claimed that she was luckier to have him. Alexander had argued that he was luckier to have her._

_This silly argument of love had continued until Alexander ended it with a deep kiss. That had seemed to satisfy Eliza._

_The memories swirled through his mind as he stood with his Betsey with McHenry at his side._

_The priest had begun his words._

_Alexander didn’t pay attention to these words, perhaps a sin, but was instead to focused on how lovely his Angel was, his sweet girl._

_Her eyes looked at her adoringly and were filled with encouragement when it was time for his vows._

_His vows blurred past._

_Eliza nodded in approval at him._

_The only words he listened to were the sweet vows that his bride swore to follow for he rest of their lives._

_Then the two words that would alter his life forever and bind him to an Angel._

_“I do.”_

_Eliza hesitated._

_Alexander’s eyes filled with tears. Was she having second thoughts?_

_He didn’t know what he would do without her._

_Eliza’s eyes seemed faraway._

_Everybody in the parlor held their breathes, fearing the worst._

_His Eliza’s eyes cleared, looking straight at Alexander._

_“I do.”_

_Those sweet words falling out of her mouth relieved him of his temporary distress. Simply hearing them would cure any sadness._

_Little did he know, the last thing he thought of would be the woman who had said “I do,” to him._

* * *

 

Alexander tied up his horse and came to the front door of the Schuyler Mansion.

     He raised his arm to knock before hesitating.

     Should he even knock if the Schuylers most likely weren’t there? Or could he save precious time if they were in need of assistance by not knocking? He did have in his possession a key to unlock the door.

     His gentlemanly ways told him to simply knock.

     His hand made contact with the door.

     Nothing.

     Alexander, not concerned, knocked a second time.

     Nothing.

     Alexander was beginning to worry. No hint of response.

     He knocked one last time.

     Nothing.

     Alexander heard not a word from the home

     He pulled out the shining key that would grant him access and put it into the lock.

     The key wouldn’t go in.

     Alexander checked the key. It hadn’t been damaged. It hadn’t been tampered with. He had kept it sealed away in a loose floorboard in Washington’s camp, where nobody was allowed to sneak in another’s room without written or personal face-to-face permission.

    So there must’ve been a flaw with the lock, Alexander concluded.

    He checked the lock. All seemed in order

    He looked inside the lock.

    There was a stone melted inside of the keyhole.

     The work of a Stone Caster, no doubt. Perhaps one of their last bits of control over their element.

     He yelled in frustration. How was he supposed to get in?

     He used a trick that Lafayette had taught him.

     He took out the pistol that he always carried with him; cowboys were always dangerous threats.

     He made sure that nobody was coming to the door. After looking in for 5 minutes, he set his finger on the trigger.

      _God, please forgive me for damaging my family’s front door_ , he thought.

     Alexander pulled the trigger and shot the lock.

     The loud bang temporarily deafened Alexander.

     After regaining all his senses, he kicked the door.

     It swung open.

     The home had been devastated.

     Everything had been ransacked.

     Alexander hurried upstairs, still holding his pistol. He didn’t know whether or not the Casters left some of their rogue type there to keep watch.

     He found his and Eliza’s room.

     Rage boiled up inside of him.

     Everything they owned had been ruined.

     From Eliza’s sketchbook, which had its cover torn and a couple of drawings ripped out to Alexander’s spare glasses, which had its lenses cracked.

     Alexander picked up the mangled sketchbook and the pages which had been torn out of it.

     The drawings had been preserved.

     Alexander flipped to the page he knew so well. The detailed portrait of him.

     He marveled at its intricacy, just like he always had.

     He took all the beautiful pages and the sketchbook and put it into his bag.

     He took off towards the CHAMC.

* * *

 

     New Windsor was flooded.

     Ever since Hamilton had left, it had gotten worse and worse.

     Some said that it was a punishment from God because of all the war violence.

     Others claimed that Alexander Hamilton had caused it.

     There were new events in the paper that were all about nature.

     George Washington had reassured his army to the point of his voice growing hoarse. It was all too much. They had to move out of the town and await the end of winter.

     Civilians were moving to high ground, away from trees, streams, rivers, ponds, and plants.

     A positive mood was impossible to achieve.

     Washington was at his desk when he was given a letter from Colonel Hamilton. Had he found the Schuylers?

     He opened it.

      _Your Excellency,_

_You have told me to be honest with you._

_In doing so, your honor, I must tell you the secret that has been weighing me down by a considerable amount._

_Magic is real._

_The Casters, who control the forces of nature and ensure that it does not reject you non-magical kind have lost their control over it. The American Magical Community has gone into chaos. And so has the Verum Mundi._

_At this current time, we have not discovered the cause of this. I myself and Colonel Burr have lost our Caster magic. Colonel Burr is a Fire Caster and I am a Water Caster. This is why we both fell ill, but remained in camp to compress out the last bit of our magic to protect this camp._

_The Schuylers are the most powerful family in the American Magical Community, with Philip Schuyler at the head of it. His children are Passiens, who restore passion to those who require it. His wife is another powerful leader of the American Magical Community._

_Please do not concern yourself about me, I am perfectly well._

_I do not yet know what has happened to the Schuylers, but the Schuyler Mansion has been raided._

_I will inform you if I find the Schuyler family._

_Sincerely,_

_Col. Alexander Hamilton_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is my favorite that I’ve written in this fic so far.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kudos and constructive criticism in the comments are greatly appreciated!


	6. A Passien's Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Passiens attempt an escape. One falls and the others go free.
> 
> Alexander finds Eliza, but far too late.
> 
> Catherine finds a mysterious place that gives her glimpses of another hidden truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took so long to write! I had a lot of things going on in my life and I couldn't get the right feel for this chapter.

     The Passiens were starving.

     11 days without food.

     The only way they could pass the time was to fix the minds of those who actually needed aid.

     The crowd of Casters had set up tents in the streets of the CHAMC and set out guards to watch over the chambers that held the Passiens, showing no mercy to the children inside.

     Aunt Gertrude's department still was able to provide them with water, but no nourishment. Their powers were fading as well. They could only manage to send through the glass the most basic substances

     And the Passiens and the Schuylers were the only ones unaffected by this massive magic vacuum.

      _Alexander_ , Eliza would moan, starving and bored. When would he come for her? When would he accept the leave that Washington had offered him? When would he figure out that something was horribly wrong?

     Angelica would mutter to herself about her children and how dearly she missed them. Jonathan had went into hiding with their children when Angelica had been forced into the glass chambers. She didn't blame him, however, because he was also in danger. As a Conjurer, he would either have to join the mob of Casters or run.

     That's when the whispers came.

     Peggy had been conversing with John intently. The other Passiens wondered why they suddenly became equals, as Peggy would often fume back in the Schuyler Mansion about how dim-witted John was.

     After more days drifting past like leaves in an endless breeze and Eliza's hopes crushing under how long it was taking her Alexander to find them, John announced, "I have a plot to get us out."

     The hungry Passiens turned to John.

     He continued, his posture straightening, "We'll get one of the Fire Casters who's on our side to melt us out. Some of them still have a little power. Then, we'll get the Mutati who can still shape-shift to take our forms quick enough that the Rogue Casters won't notice. We'll convince the Fire Caster who gets us out to make a massive fire show with the remainder of their energy that'll obscure the view  of the Rogue Casters. Hopefully the Rogue Fire Casters have lost enough power to lose their immunity to their element and the Rogue Water Casters will be in too much chaos to put the fire out. Once we're out, I think we can all teleport to safety. The Rogue Casters powers are fading, which means that the teleportation barrier should be lifted outside of here too."

     The Passiens took John's explanation into account. It seemed possible to manage, but impossible to get all of them out. They had seen loyal Fire Casters still using their magic and Mutati turning into rattlesnakes to frighten away the mob of Casters, which had minimal effect on the unshakable Casters.

     "Well..." Eliza began uneasily, seeing his point but unsure if it would be effective. "We'll see, John."

     Peggy's face turned red and she turned toward her older sister. "We've been in here for almost two weeks and counting and you think that we can wait any longer? I've been taking care of Cornelia and the boys with a bit of help from John--"

     John cut her off and said, "HEY! I helped a lot!"

     "--while you and Angelica have been murmuring about your  _lovers_? I see Angelica's point, Philip and Caty are adorable and pure and Jonathan has to run, but yours? I know Alexander well enough to know that he probably can't get here quickly enough to save us before the rogue Casters can break the glass. The other Casters know that they can't stand against him. He doesn't have to flee! He will stay in New Windsor until his powers fade. I don't blame him, but can't you see the reality? You're married to him. You should know who he is. You've been whispering his name more than you ever comfort your younger siblings!" She yelled, startling Rensselaer from his nap and making Cornelia whine.

     Philip Jeremiah muttered, "Please, calm down."

     Angelica went forward to pat her younger sister's shoulder before Peggy lashed out and slapped her arm.*

     "Don't mother me, Angelica! I am a perfectly capable young woman," Peggy fumed, surprising Angelica. When did she become so snappish?

     "Peggy, please!" Eliza exclaimed, separating her sisters, attempting to stop an oncoming argument. After all, she was the Passien of love. "We shan't force ourselves into an avoidable argument."

     Peggy glared at Eliza. Eliza looked away, not willing to see her younger sister's face like that.

     Peggy crossed her arms and turned away. "I assume you wish to stay in here forever."

     Eliza and Angelica groaned.

* * *

 

     Two days later, the siblings reconciled and perfected their escape plan.

     The mob of Casters still had not subsided despite two weeks of waiting.

     Luckily, the glass was so fractured that it was nearly impossible to make out the Passiens' figures from the outside. This allowed the Schuyler siblings to make plans with the Department of Law and Order.

     The Fire Casters who were on their side and the ones who did not quite lose their control were prepared to use up the last bit of power they had for Philip Schuyler's Passiens.

     There was a single flaw to the plan, though.

     One Passien would have to stay behind for long enough to signal to the Fire Casters to stop the waves of fire, whose powers would presumably be weak enough at that point for the rogue Casters to see the final one. The glass would be destroyed. The Passien that would be left behind would have a high possibility of getting taken through the broken glass.

     The seven siblings had all volunteered to stay behind and possibly be taken by the Casters. Even little Cornelia, who could speak in full and clear sentences and was smarter than Rensselaer and Philip Jeremiah combined (they never admitted it, but it was a well accepted fact among the Schuyler family) volunteered to stay behind. The other 6 Passiens automatically forbade it. Rensselaer and Philip Jeremiah were out of the question as well. John was a possibility, but the three eldest Schuyler sisters refused to let any of their younger siblings be at such a risk. Peggy made a bold speech telling her siblings that she should be the one to stay behind because she was an unmarried woman who was the third Schuyler child who had no children. Angelica and Eliza refused this offer as well. They couldn't bear to leave Peggy behind. She was the best with the little ones, being the Passien of generosity and always willing to give them her extra sweets. Eliza herself had volunteered, but Angelica and Peggy were adamant in their refusal. She was married to a volatile Water Caster who only she could control and the supposed 'most important' Passien. That left Angelica. Peggy and Eliza refused Angelica's offer. She was the eldest Passien who was married and had two small children.

      None of them were good candidates.

      After much debate, Eliza said, "I will be the one to stay. Alexander will understand..." Eliza's voice faltered. How would Alexander react if she was captured or killed? The question swirled around in her mind. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "All of you have too much to live for. I will be the one to stay behind. If I make it, then we will all be happy. If I do not," she closed her eyes, imagining what would happen to her. "then please do not bother yourselves and forget to live by mourning my loss.

      As expected, Peggy and Angelica came in to argue, but Eliza put up her hands. "One of us has to signal to the Fire Casters. We cannot let them kill themselves from overuse of magic. I am the least worthwhile. We are losing time."

     Angelica opened her mouth to further convince her sister to be safe when suddenly, Cornelia tugged on the remains of her dress and said, "Angelica, let Eliza stay. She wants to and is the most willing. We can't keep everyone safe."

     Peggy raised her eyebrows at her oldest sister. A question.

     Angelica looked at Cornelia's big, innocent eyes that were also so wise. She chewed on her lip. Eliza held her breath, expecting Angelica to refuse her offer. Finally, Angelica sighed and said, "Eliza. We will wait for you, whether you make it or not."

* * *

 

     Alexander entered the CHAMC, which was heavily guarded. He had only made it through via a secret passage that his father-in-law had shown him.

     What he saw surprised him.

     He put on a hat and tied back his hair to hide it before putting powder on his face to cover his freckles. Now he was simply another person in the crowd.

     There were tents everywhere in the underground city. A mob of Casters were at the center, yelling demands at something at the center. He pushed himself to what the Casters were so interested in, ignoring the grunts and protests from the ones he pushed past.

      There were the remains of a scorched glass chamber. The ground had been burned and Alexander smelled the lingering scent of smoke, reminding him of the gruesome battles from his time under Washington's command. A woman had been tied up nearby to two wooden stakes. Her dress was torn and her face was covered in ash and her head was bowed. She looked to be sobbing and yelling. Her face was covered in cuts and her arms looked to have been stabbed with a hurricane of glass.

      _What are these Casters doing to this poor young woman?_ Alexander thought to himself. The woman was clearly helpless and was near dead from exhaustion.

      Alexander began forward to help the woman, but a harsh hand grabbed his coat. A gruff voice whispered in his ear, "That Passien is ours. We caught 'er and now little rascals like you are trying to steal 'er. Find your own Passien to fix your powers." The person who had grabbed him shoved him back into the crowd.

     Passien? Which one was it? Witty Angelica, Generous Peggy, or, God forbid his precious Eliza. His heart raced.

     He examined the woman further. Her hair was too dark to be Peggy's. So it was either Anne or his Betsey. He cringed at himself for not being able to identify the woman in front of him.

     He squinted harder at the woman. A dirty green ribbon was hanging from her curly hair. Anne would never wear ribbons in her hair. His Eliza on the other hand...

     The woman looked up. Although her face was covered in ash, Alexander could easily identify who she was. Her eyes gave it away.

     His Betsey, forced to suffer like this by the people who she had adored. Rage boiled in his veins, threatening to explode out of him. His sweet, gentle girl who hadn't done an ounce wrong was tied up in the center and being forced to fix every single Caster in the CHAMC. Her pleading screams for mercy echoed in his heart.

     But what had happened to the others? Alexander prayed that Eliza's family, no,  _their_ family was well. If they had escaped, perhaps he could find them and free his wife. The other 6 Passiens could perhaps telepathically communicate with her (no guarantees, as the telepathic communication would normally only range 5 kilometres, give or take considering magical regulations and their own extent of power) or be able to have contact with the Churches (who had wrote to him that they had gone into hiding the moment their powers began fading) through Angelica. Catherine would probably be with Philip, who would have presumably either evacuated the CHAMC or went into a designated shelter.

     His poor girl scanned the crowd, looking for somebody, anybody who was willing to save her. Her eyes fell into mind-shattering despair when the Casters jeered at her for being weak and a damsel-in-distress, Alexander used all of his willpower to not shout out his identity to her. He wanted to pull her safely into his arms and shield her from all the rogue Casters.

     Alexander looked directly at his Betsey, hoping to catch her eyes. If anybody could recognize him, it would be Eliza. He held onto the last shard of hope in this hurricane that she would see him in the crowd of eyes.

     Eliza's eyes fell over the crowd once, twice, three times, before she paused her gaze with her beautiful brown eyes on him. Recognition fell over her expression and Alexander shouted at her to fix him to disguise the moment from the other Casters and for her to realize that it was her Hamilton's voice. His poor Betsey's limbs relaxed, letting him know that she knew that he was there and she was indeed comforted by his presence.

     They knew of each other's presence. But how would one possibly save the other?

* * *

     Catherine was shivering.

     The whirlpool had brought her to a dark cave.

     She was exhausted, in the dark, pregnant, and alone.

     The sound of dripping water echoed on the cave walls.

     Where had the man gone and where had the statue taken her?

     He had said that he was an Ice Caster and could speak English and knew her identity.

     Catherine examined her immediate surroundings and concluded that she was in no immediate danger. She felt the animal skin that the man had given her. It was soft and warm, perfect to help her regain warmth and for her to not catch her death. She laid down on the cave floor with the animal skin wrapped around her snugly. She was about to fall asleep when a flickering light caught her eye.

      She stood up and cautiously approached a warm yellow light coming from a crevasse. Catherine noted that it was incredibly warm in the cave. She bent down to see the source. A small stone mountain lion, no bigger than the palm of her hand was emitting a flame-like light. The flame looked incredibly odd, almost like a young boy running away from something. Catherine looked closer. She could barely make out a young boy running through a dense forest and was being chased by the same mountain lion depicted in the stone along with two other, slightly smaller ones. She blinked. There was no way that a flame could tell a story. Especially not this classic tale. Eziel and the Lions. But it was right there. Plain as day.

       What was this strange place?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I'm sorry for making Peggy like that, I had to incorporate her actual personality too!
> 
> I have a couple things planned for the story of Eziel and the Lions, just you wait.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Kudos and constructive criticism in the comments are greatly appreciated!


	7. Further, but Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip Schuyler is overridden with guilt in his protective bunker. He suspects his beloved Catherine is dead, as well as his beloved children. He has lost everything.
> 
> Meanwhile, Catherine encounters the Riddle of Worlds, a force more sinister than its already ominous name.
> 
> All while the other 6 Passiens plot how they'll get the Passien of Love back into their arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, apologies for uploading so late! I try to update as frequently as possible, but my life has turned upside down and it has prevented me from writing. I want to make good chapters and not disappoint anybody who is kind enough to read my terrible work.

     Philip Schuyler sobbed, not bothering to wipe away his tears or show any sign of stopping. A maid, a powerful Defenist (a person magically gifted with superb defense magic, strength, and agility), was frantically dabbing at the stains his tears left off of the hand-woven rug he was sitting on. He had presumed that his lovely Catherine, who was so far along with child, was gone. An eighth child who could possibly survive to adulthood would never be happily sleeping in his arms. No word of his beloved wife had been heard for two weeks. Philip prayed that she had gone peacefully, perhaps from Casters who would've been given a merciful death. More likely, she had painfully frozen to death in the frigid cold of the winter. There was almost no way that she did not catch her death.

      The thought of her praying for him to come, inches before death was almost more powerful than the thing itself. He couldn't live with himself. What did he do? He had stood back when his 7 children had gone out to face their certain doom and forced his Catherine to flee alone. He had almost certainly killed his wife and doomed his 7 children. His love for her, stretching back well over 25 years ached with regret. His beautiful children. The result of his love for his wife were all gone. Doomed to serve those who were desperate enough to capture what were considered almost holy people.

     What would become of his grandchildren, Philip and Kitty? What would become of the Churches, his guests from England and his son-in-law, Johnathan? He certainly didn't trust the man in the slightest, but his eldest daughter clearly loved him. But he was already in enough trouble with the Royal English Magical Society as it was because some ridiculous Mutati transformed into squirrels at a British camp and stole all their arms and ammunition. It seemed like a laughing matter, but they had been threatened numerous times after that. Philip certainly didn't wish to manage a magical war as well as a war in the  _Verum Mundi_. Especially with the internal crisis of the majority of the AMC rebelling against him and his family.

     So what was there to do? No scrap of hope could dominate over the constant sinking feeling of ultimate failure. Philip ruined his life. His wife's life. His children's lives. And the entirety of the American Magical Community.

     The dream of the lions still hadn't faded either. Was it truly a dream? Or was it a sign? A sign of the cause of the disarray that his people were in? The lions had warned him. Could he ignore it? A sea of doubt drowned Philip. There was no possible way that anybody could believe his dream was an omen of what had happened. It was foolish to even delight in the thought of anybody except for his faithful wife would take his concerns with even an ounce of consideration.

     The maid tapped his shoulder lightly. Philip flashed back to reality. The thoughts were now disorienting and he clearly looked ill, from the look on the kind maid's face.

     She said, "I'm so sorry to bother you, Leader General Multinius Vader van Passien, son of Late Former Esteemed Leader Johannes Schuyler, Jr. and the Late Fine Lady Cornelia van Cortlandt, Philip John Schuyler (Philip strongly disliked his ridiculously lengthy title, he thought it was a waste of perfectly fine words), but you look unwell. Would you like to lie down?  Shall I prepare some tea?"

     Philip shook his head and assured the maid, "I was deep in thought. I apologize if I worried you," he stood up. "But I must go out and see what has become of the CHAMC."

     "Sir, I wouldn't recommend such a dangerous--" Philip ignored her and the maid closed her mouth, ending her objection.

     "Madame, I thank you for your concern, but I must see if my children are still there. I cannot bear a further second without knowing their fate."

     The maid nodded and allowed Philip to enter onto the balcony.

     What he saw would never be erased from his sight.

* * *

     Catherine was engrossed with the dancing flame that told the story. The thought of a flame, alive enough to tell her a frightening tale told to magical children to terrify them enough to never reveal or overuse their abilities to anybody in the  _Verum Mundi_. Catherine went over the warnings about magic that she always gave children. _No mention of the IMC or anything related to magic must be released to the non-magical kind. Only those with an official permit were allowed to use any magic outside of the CHAMC, including officials of the IMC or AMC or people who need magic to do their jobs, like the big Casters who protect the non-magical or the Passiens, who need magic to help people. You'll get into big trouble if you use magic when you're not supposed to._

     The thought of when she was safe in Albany with her children and Philip brought the warmth of memory into her chilled heart.

     Simply saying that she longed for them was a vast understatement. She was completely alone and in a strange place that she didn't even remotely understand.

     Then a floodwall broke.

     All the emotion of the past weeks flooded her senses as her vision blurred with tears. She had been sustained by her own will to live and the promise of her child knowing the world. She had held onto the sweetness that she would maybe see who she loved again or that they would understand what had happened to her. And now, now that she realized that she had a singular safe moment, she broke.

     Just like that.

     Her salty tears stung her face as they suddenly became boiling hot, despite the cave's comfortable temperature. Catherine breathed in slowly, only to get more of her salty tears up her nostrils. They ran over her face, down her chin, and onto her ragged clothing. Catherine touched the places where the tears had stained her dress. She looked at her large, rounded stomach, a reminder that she was not alone. Her child would keep her company, whether he or she was born yet or not. Her little piece of Philip with her.

     With that constant reminder, Catherine took the animal skin into her hands. She noticed a couple of rough stitches in it. She traced her dirty fingertip up the simple stitching, enjoying it simplicity. With a rush of memory, she noted that the fur felt suspiciously like beaver fur, extraordinarily soft and warm. She remembered her father showing her a dead beaver after a bit of recreational hunting and he had instructed her to feel the fur. Catherine had been nervous, but her father convinced her to disregard the dead beaver and just admire its fur. She had cautiously placed the same fingertip that she had traced the stitches on the beaver skin onto the dead beaver and was shocked to see how nice the fur was. Another reminder that warmth could arrive to her.

* * *

 

     " _Reminders of life. Reminders of love. Reminders of warmth. Reminders of doom. Reminders of hatred. Reminders of failure. Who will remind you to remember? Reminders were an infinitely powerful expression. More than what the surface makes of them," Eziel bitterly remarked._

* * *

 

     An idea sprung to her mind. What if the beaver fur was a key to something? What if it could get her out of this limbo? As ridiculous as it seemed, Catherine could admit, nothing here was ordinary.

     And what about the flame? It was placed there when she was resting. She had searched every inch of the dark cave before sleeping. The flame could be another way out. The flame must be here for a reason, Catherine confirmed.

     But what could a flame and sewn together beaver fur to to release her?

      _Sacrifice it. Give the skin to the flame. Show it that you respect it. Show it that you know its power._ A shadowy whisper said into her ear. Catherine jumped. Her baby kicked hard at her surprise. The voice was not her own.

      "Who are you?! Catherine shouted at the cave walls. Her voice echoed, " _are you? are you? are you?"_   She trembled, waiting for a response. She waited nervously. She could've made a fatal mistake. All of her children's faces flashed before her eyes. All of her children who died young's faces flashed before her eyes. Grief, remembering their fates reminded her that she still had so many more trials.

      A hiss came from the flame. Catherine turned around. She saw a shadow, a shadow that wasn't her own loom over the innocent-looking flame. It looked like a wisp of smoke that was darker and far more sinister. It rose slowly from the candle's flame. Each passing second, the wisp grew ten times larger. And each passing millisecond, Catherine herself grew infinitely more terrified.

      A tall figure emerged, human but not quite. Its features were blurred, and every time Catherine blinked, she couldn't remember exactly what the thing looked like. She backed away from it. It chuckled at her weak attempt to escape her most likely undeniable fate.

      _Fair lady_ , it sneered. Its voice didn't echo against the walls, almost as if it had never existed.  _Fear for your identity, not your life. For I am the Riddle of Worlds._

* * *

 

     Angelica paced nervously in their hideout. The Livingstons had taken them in. They were non-magical kind, so they made up the excuse that a few loyalists had threatened to attack their home. Eliza had been captured before she could get out, and there was no was that the rest of the Passiens could go back. But she had sworn to protect all of her siblings, no matter what. She would face death if it meant saving Eliza. She shouldn't have let her stay behind. She should've thought of another, safer way to escape. She should've sacrificed herself. Little Philip and Kitty would eventually understand if she had died. Jonathan would remarry another beautiful women to help give her children a good life. But would she regret it if they grew up not knowing what had happened to their mama? If they grew up knowing that their mama had been captured and used to fix people? Would they be able to accept it?

     She knew fully well that Eliza deserved to live more than she did. She made Alexander happy. She was the Passien of Love, which she knew deep down that love was worth far more than any level of wit. The ability to love was impossible to live without. Wit, on the other hand was essential, but not completely needed. But Eliza was the one to be captured, Eliza was the one suffering. It wasn't fair.

      Peggy was just as distraught as she was, if not even more. It was impossible to fathom what would happen if they never saw her again. Every single memory of their dear sister flashed before their eyes, one by one as they mourned dear Elizabeth's sufferings as a captive of the Casters.

      There was one particular memory that stood out. Eliza receiving a letter of her Hamilton. She had read it and held it to her chest, romanticizing over the words Alexander had written to her. Each one was more precious to her than a cathedral built for her out of shining gems. Angelica remembered her twinge of bitterness as her dear Eliza swooned. Angelica imagined that the words were for her, that she were in Eliza's place. She and Alexander had an instant connection from when Eliza excitedly presented her suitor to her. They looked each other in the eye before Alexander bent down to kiss her hand. They matched wits, and both of them knew it well. His eyes struck her as if she had been found by lightning. Eliza didn't seem to notice the lingering kiss on Angelica's hand.

      She was married to Jonathan and had Philip. She couldn't fall in love with another man, much less the one her sisters loved. But that connection never faded between them. In fact, it had only gotten stronger. It lingered and festered into a kind of love that Angelica herself could not describe. It was a sibling sort of love, but a deeper sort.

      She banished the memory. It was too much to know that the face shining with her tears of happiness would now be replaced with her tears of pain. The same tears when a colorful bird had died in her arms when they were both small. Eliza had wailed about how the innocent bird had died and how unfair it was. Angelica told her that it was in a happier place while Peggy could not yet speak and gurgled in confusion.

      John spoke up in the uncomfortable silence that was only filling by sobs and sniffles. He himself had red puffy eyes. "Look, we can't spend our lives crying that Eliza's been captured and that she's suffering. We have to do  _something_ , right?"

     He was met with silence.

* * *

 

     Alexander rode fiercely through the bitter wind of the winter months. He was going to the Livingston home. He needed refuge from the cold and couldn't risk staying in the CHAMC. His blood boiled at remembering his Betsey tied to a stake with the Casters shouting orders at her. The insults that showered her echoed in his mind.

     In one hand he held his horse's reins. In the other, he held Eliza's drawing of him. He would present it to her when they were once again together.

     She had recognized him in the crowd, and he knew it. She had seemed so disappointed when he left her, but understanding had flowed into her eyes. That was the permission for him to leave. His logical mind told him to stay, but his heart told him to leave. Washington had told him that he had a good heart. Eliza did too. So he trusted his heart to guide him away from the scene, because even his mind knew that he could do no good for her if he stayed.

     If his father-in-law promoted him to take control of the Casters after this mess resolved, he would release every Caster who had hurt his Eliza or brothers and sisters-in-law from service and banish them from the CHAMC.

     He arrived at the Livingstons'.

     He tied up his horse and knocked politely on the door.

     Catherine Livingston opened the door. Upon seeing Alexander's face, she blushed. He sent her a love letter years ago, but she had politely rejected his offer of courtship. They still remained good friends through his Eliza. She said, "Mr. Hamilton. How good it is to see you."

     Alexander kissed Kitty's hand and closed the door behind him. Kitty's father looked surprised to see him but greeted him in the same manner as his daughter. They both seemed like they were hiding something, but he didn't know what they could be hiding. They were definitely not loyalists or plotting to kill him. He had known the Livingstons ever since he had arrived in the Colonies.

     He had begun to explain why he had come before a tiny figure hugged his leg. Alexander was startled and looked down at the thing attached to him. It was squealing,obviously overjoyed to see him.

     "Alex!" the young girl said excitedly. "Anne, Margaret, John, Phil, and Rensselaer are all here!"

      It was none other than Cornelia Schuyler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this was such a sad and angsty chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kudos and constructive criticism in the comments are greatly appreciated!


	8. A Letter With No End...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George Washington rides to the Schuyler Mansion. He has given the command of his struggling camp to his senior officers. He hasn't heard a word about the Schuylers since Hamilton had left a week ago. In fact, he was getting worried about Hamilton himself, who he trusted would always give him daily updates of his search. It didn't help that he was the first of the non-magical kind to know about the AMC in millenia.
> 
> Eliza's pain outweighs her happiness.
> 
> Cornelia goes on a little adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGGHHHHH I ACCIDENTLY POSTED THIS WHILE WRITING AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!

     The galloping of the horse was muted by the screaming of the roaring winds which tore past the General.

     He couldn't bear it anymore, not knowing what had happened to the Schuylers. He had had his ups and downs with the head of the family, but had dearly missed his military support after he had retired his position as general. All the search parties he had sent came up empty-handed, with no more than a scrap of evidence of where any one of them had gone. Even the Cochrans were nowhere to be found.

     He did know the secret of magic. However ridiculous it was, he couldn't help believing it. He shook his head. He was not some child, growing up on the family plantation with little fantasies for little minds. He was the mighty George Washington, the Commander In-Chief of the Continental Army. There was an ounce of doubt in him that what Colonel Hamilton had told him had simply been a tale to evade him knowing a darker truth. But since when had his aide-to-camp lied to him?

     It didn't seem believable, but there was little doubt in his revered mind that it was actually a lie.

     In fact, he was getting worried about Hamilton, who hadn't had any contact with him or any other person at camp. There was no doubt in his mind that he had betrayed him or the rest of the Continental Army. But had he been harmed? Had he frozen to death with no shelter?

     The Schuyler Estate rose from the mist of the falling snow.

     Washington remembered what Hamilton had written him. The Schuyler Mansion was ransacked and the Schuylers themselves were nowhere to be found.

     He tied a rope to a stake in the ground to secure his horse. The snow was fresh, except for a couple faded footprints, possibly from Colonel Hamilton. The door was closed, but hardly. The lock mechanism seemed to have been damaged and what looked like a bullet hole went through it. He chuckled softly to himself. Lafayette had been going around teaching the colonels and majors how to open a locked door, and it seemed to been of good use to Hamilton.

     Washington said a prayer and pushed the door open.

* * *

 

      _My Angel_.

     Eliza sobbed at remembering her Alexander's words, whispering in her ear as they sat by the fireplace. He held her tight, promising to never leave her.

     But he had.

     Her Hamilton had left her.

 _How selfish she was!_ She thought to herself. Alexander probably had to return to camp or find her siblings to save her. He had requested permission to leave. And she had granted it.

     But was he leaving her to run off with a more beautiful woman? Was he leaving her because he didn't care? Or was he leaving her to aid her?

     She didn't know.

     She had doubted Alexander's loyalty before, but it had always been batted away when Alexander sent her another letter of promises. 

     She missed Margaret, she missed Anne. She missed Rensselaer and John with Philip Jeremiah. She even missed pesky little Cornelia, who always managed to keep the climate sunny.

      She stiffly smiled at the thought of their faces. Maybe they were waiting for her, just outside of the CHAMC. Maybe they were with her Hamilton.

      The thought was swiftly blown away when a mob of angry Casters began screaming at her to fix them. Some advanced towards her with whips in threatening positions. Eliza hopelessly pleaded, "Please! I am the Passien of Love! I know not of what has taken away your powers! I cannot fix them! I cannot!"

      The Casters chuckled at her foolishness.

      "WEAKLING!" a woman shouted from the crowd.

      "We're going to resort to violence, right Henry?" asked a man from the crowd.

      These were the people who had respected her all her life. The people who had rejoiced when she, the Passien of Love was born. They had revered her and her siblings. They had bowed to her while she was in the CHAMC. It had seemed as all who were a part of the AMC had respected her.   And now they had turned on her so quickly, in the same place where she once posed for portraits and ice sculptures in front of her admirers. Those same admirers would be in the crowd, somewhere, wanting her tortured into consent.

      Eliza winced. If Anne, Margarita, of Alexander had been there, they would've told all of the Casters off and freed her.

      When would this end?

* * *

 

      Cornelia was clever.

      That was certainly a given, as she was the Passien of Intelligence.

      But maybe a little  _too_ intelligent.

      She missed Betsey, but Kitty was nice. She played with her when Peggy was sick. But the Livingston mansion was boring. All the snow that fell on the hill in was on tumbled to the bottom. It was too steep for her to go down herself. Anne insisted on leaving her inside, arguing that it was too cold for Cornelia to play in the cold in just a woolen cloak and a tiny muff. Peggy had fallen ill a few days after they had arrived, so she couldn't argue with Anne. Alex supported whatever Anne said and was too busy shut up in his office while writing pointless letters to play with her.

      She was frustrated.

      Johnny, Phil, and Ren were always pretending to fight in the war and wouldn't let her join. When Anne had forced them to let Cornelia join, the made her into the weak crying child of a dashing soldier

      She needed some fun.

      That evening, it snowed.

      She peered at it gleefully and decided to go out when nobody knew.

      In the dead of night, she pulled herself up.

      She went into the trunk that the Livingstons had provided her. It was filled to the brim with Kitty's clothing from when she was her age. Cornelia dug around until she found the warmest cloak, a hat, and mittens. They were a soft cloud gray and were made of beautifully spun wool. They were a tad bit big on her and had quite a few stains, perhaps from mud when the snow melted, but would do the job.

      Cornelia quickly put them on. She found a spare pocket watch in one of the drawers and slid it into her pocket. She looked around her room, sure to not forget anything. She looked out the window. The snow was still falling and had clumped at the base of the hill. Part of her wished she could jump out the window and be caught by the snow, but she would surely be gravely injured if she did. Cornelia pulled herself away from the image and slowly opened the door. It creaked once, but she doubted that anybody had heard it. She ran down the stairs like a mouse and found the door. She pulled on some warm shoes and ran outside.

      The wind blew at her face, turning her cheeks bright red. She squealed in delight at the sight of all the snow below. She ran down the hill, almost tumbling, until she reached its base. She couldn't see much in the dark, but the snow was there. She could feel its coldness through her mittens. She tossed it into the sky, pretending that the snow was falling like a blizzard. She then fell face-first into the drift. Her face felt as if it were freezing. She pulled herself back up and rolled up some snow. She threw it at a tree. The impact of the snowball shook some snow from its branches.

      She then fell back and made a snow angel in the powdery substance. She drew a face on it and looked at it in approval.

      She repeated it 23 more times.

      The sun was beginning to come up. The pocket watch read 6:37. Cornelia finished drawing the last face on the snow angel. The snow had subsided to a pleasant drizzle. She dusted the snow off of her now white mittens. She wasn't cold in the slightest.

      She tried to run up the hill, but it was too steep. She could see why Angelica didn't want her playing in the snow. Cornelia was stuck.

      Cornelia realized how stupid she had been. Of course she couldn't make it back up with her tiny little 4-year-old legs. Even as a Passien, she wouldn't be able to get back up. Now everybody would know and her siblings and Alex would never let her hear the end of it.

      An idea dawned on her as she though of her Passienhood. Of course! She could simply teleport back up. There was no teleportation barrier there like there was in the CHAMC. Sure, she wasn't powerful enough to teleport back to the Pastures, but she could teleport up the hill.

      She though hard about her room in the Livingston mansion. Extremely hard. Down to the details on the vanity. She felt a compressing sensation before feeling her feet touch down on solid ground. She was back in her room.

      Cornelia began taking off her sopping clothing before noticing that it had suddenly dried.  _How strange_ , she thought to herself.

      She stuffed her borrowed clothes back into the trunk and pushed it underneath the bed.

      Cornelia was fine. Nobody would ever know, she assured herself.

      She heard footsteps coming from Angelica's room. She heard Anne sigh and say, "Who ran down the hill? Who made snow angels down there?"

      Cornelia slapped herself. She should've covered everything up.

      Anne walked towards Cornelia's room. Cornelia winced, expectant of what was to come.

      Anne knocked before saying to Cornelia's bedroom door, "Did you play in the snow?"

      Cornelia heard another pair of footsteps coming to her door. Angelica's voice was muffled, but she heard, "Alexander? Why are you up so early?"

      The other voice responded, "I could say the same thing to you, fair lady. I was up all night, figuring out a way to get our dear Eliza back."

      " _Alexander_ ," Angelica warned.

      "What? You will have the cruel heart to punish me for a good deed?" Alexander mocked innocently.

      "I've told you so many times to sleep properly-- _don't you dare,_ _Alexander Hamilton, leave Elizabeth a widow so young because of your stupidity._ "

      Alexander seemed to be stunned into silence.

      "Anne, I--"

      "Don't do this to me, Hamilton," Angelica said sternly. "I've lost my own husband to fate. I have no idea of the whereabouts of my children, mother, or father! They could all be gone and my dear Eliza--" her voice broke. "Could be gone as well."

      Cornelia heard Angelica fall to the floor.

     "And not to mention Margarita, who is ill and is getting worse. I spend my days tending to her and fretting for the worst while you spend your time in your office, writing and working when you should care about your ill sister and tortured wife more. Washington gave you leave. You don't have to work!"

     "Angelica, listen to me--"

     "I've had enough. Either you help or you don't."

     "Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for not posting. I was on vacation and then got writers block! I'm back now. I'm sorry this was short, but I just needed to get this chapter done.

**Author's Note:**

> *Peggy was described by one of her mother’s biographers as generous, so that’s where that came from.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Kudos and constructive criticism in the comments are greatly appreciated!


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